


boy meets girl meets boy

by kuro49



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes a little differently than your usual meet cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	boy meets girl meets boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suyari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/gifts).



> the inspirational meet cute that you deserve (except i don't watch nearly enough rom coms, so this is a little thin on inspirational or cute). special shoutout to [sublimediscordance](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/SublimeDiscordance) because how can i write for this pairing without thinking of you as well.
> 
> i am inclined to write a part ii that is all smut.

 

“Big day, huh?”

He is wearing a pair of obnoxious aviators indoors. That fact alone should really tell Angela everything she needs to know about the bartender. But even those shades has trouble hiding the outline of ugly yellow and purple just above his cheekbone. She wants to reach out, over the nice glossy oak of the bar top, to press her thumb down against the fading bruise. If just to see this man give her an expression that isn’t the same fake, toothy grin.

Instead, she keeps her hands wrapped around her glass of cranberry juice when she gives him a thin smile in exchange and breathes out.

“Big.”

Because she is not in her white dress.

If this is what getting cold feet feels like, she has ice in her veins. She will be turning twenty-three in one month. Her belly will be five times its size in nine. With any other story, it isn’t the morning of her wedding day and she isn’t sitting at the bar of the hotel she will be getting married in.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

She takes a sip and tells him around the straw between her lips. “Taking responsibility.”

Angela imagines his eyes to widen behind those shades, even if just slightly. If only because the smile he gives her is a little less charming, reaching wistful. Like he has had one too many run-ins with what responsibility should be. This man looks like he has a few stories to tell. She has to wonder how he ends up here, shaking martinis and polishing glassware while he smiles wide enough to open up that healing split lip.

“I know a guy like that.”

Angela wants to tell him he looks like he misses a guy like that.

But she doesn’t.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Y’know a guy that got you pregnant and decides to do the right thing and marry you?”

He pauses, like she actually surprises him and then he is laughing. Angela has a hard time biting back a smile when he pulls off those aviators to wipe a few tears from his eyes. She likes him better without them. She likes the blue of his eyes even with the fading black eye.

Where he should be obnoxious, she finds it endearing.

“… I ran when I realized it was love.”

And there is that word she has been trying not to think about at all.

“I don’t know if it’s love.”

He doesn’t gesture to where her wedding ring will go. Instead, he lays a hand to his stomach and looks at her like she should know.

“It’s always love.”

Angela is not in her white dress, and Herc is, perhaps, not the love of her life or the man of her dreams. But neither is she anybody’s high school sweetheart with a jacket two sizes too big draped across her shoulders.

This boy inside of her though, he will be the _love_ of their life.

Her bartender knows this much.

She doesn’t tell him he is right. She just gestures to the general vicinity of his eye and says, “Impressive.”

“If you think this is impressive, should’ve seen me last week.” He grins at her when he finally slips those aviators into a pocket. “I was real pretty then.”

She takes another sip of her cranberry juice to hide her smile.

“I can only imagine.”

Beneath the bar top, she touches a hand to the baby bump that is barely there.

 

“I heard I’ve got a nephew to meet?”

It is once upon a time. It is boy meets girl. With any other story, that is perhaps true. But when have they ever made anything easy for themselves? There is not one person here that grew up with fairy tales told at bedtime and a kiss on the forehead.

“Who told you that?”

Herc hasn’t punched a man in a long time. He has forgotten that it hurts the one doing the punching just as much. He refuses to think that it has anything to do with whom it is that he punched.

“Your wife.”

Scott Hansen’s grin is still just as infuriating even if he is clutching to one side of his face.

His brother is what one can call the black sheep of the family.

His brother is what one can call plenty of things.

For Herc though, this one tops the cake. He is eighteen turning nineteen, coming home from basic training only to find their shared room empty, their bunks deserted, and parents that cannot look him in the eye and tell him that they didn’t have a part in driving out their youngest son. When Herc leaves again, he always makes sure to come back between deployments and downtime. He takes comfort in routine, in the familiar, but even then, this same disappointment that takes form at the pit of his stomach is getting pretty fucking old.

Herc sends an invitation to Scotty’s last known address, and tries to do everything but hope.

He is in his dress uniform. She is in her white dress. Neither one of them believes in love at first sight, it isn’t anything so encompassing. They have yet to tell anyone else about the baby boy involved.

Love takes work, they can both agree on that when they said _I do_.

Scott Hansen doesn’t show.

“You’re a little early for that.”

Angela steps out from behind him and shows off the baby bump that is more than a little bit big.

“I can go.”

Scott offers and really, there is no lie Herc can hide behind when panic floods his system at that.

“Don’t be stupid.” She doesn’t think she has to tell them that she is addressing them both when she says that. She only turns around to make room because she knows she takes up quite a bit with how big she’s gotten. “Herc, let your bartender of a brother in already.”

“Bartender?”

“He pours a decent cranberry juice.”

“Cranberry juice.”

Herc repeats after her, not entirely sure this isn’t a dream of some of the worst caliber.

“Did I mention he convinced me to marry you?”

It is her turn to laugh until there are tears in her eyes and that is not including the bruise that is going to look more than impressive this time around.

 

“First kiss?”

Resolve makes for terrible bravery. One rash decision followed by another, one night on their couch turns into two turns into three, four, five turns into months. Scott Hansen comes back without telling a single soul and makes a home inside of theirs. He isn’t so self-deluded that he thinks there wouldn’t be an expiration date on something so good.

Scott asks this deliberately.

“Let me guess.”

Angela says from where she is lying down on her side. The couch is doing wonders for her back at the moment but so is Herc’s lap pillowed beneath her head. His hand carding through her hair keeps her breathing even. She thinks _now_ is as good as any other. She is, after all, due in a week's time.

She points to Herc then to Scott.

Angela doesn’t put two and two together for a long time but she still remembers that conversation across the bar top on the morning of her wedding day word for word. _It’s always love,_ Scott Hansen tells her like it is fact. She has heard the story of that Hansen black sheep from her in-laws enough times. She can still see the panic in Herc’s eyes when Scott comes home only to say: _I can go_.

Perhaps, it is time she gives them a hint.

She lets them take a second while she settles further into the sofa that almost smells like Scott at this point. A single smoke lit up on the curb of their apartment, a drag few and far in between before he comes up the stairs. He is quitting, he is learning. She is not the only one to see how hard he tries.

She thinks she’d rather like it if she can bring his scent into the last room of their home.

“…Was that really your first, ‘Le?”

“That wasn’t yours.”

“Would I be me if it was?”

Hercules turns sixteen in a month. He is the older one, and he should know better than to encourage Scotty like this but. A first kiss is a first kiss, and he’d rather like a second now. Fifteen years old boys care very little for how rough or how chapped or how very much related these lips are. His younger brother kisses him again.

Scott chases the way the corner of his mouth turns up.

Scott follows the curve to the very end and learns to slip between the cracks.

“First kiss?”

Herc asks, this time around, tipping his chin down to watch the way his wife extends a hand to touch Scott’s face. Her finger tips trace around his eye where the skin haven’t been yellow or purple or blue or green for a long time now. Scott is trying and those little sticky notes he leaves on the fridge before he goes out keep Herc from going crazy when he comes home to find an empty couch.

“Some boy I knew from summer camp.”

She tells them.

It is a story of boy meets girl meets boy.

In which these boys are not the same boy. In which these boys share a same last name.

When Scott meets her on the day of her wedding, he has to know there is a chance she could be the one. Scott hasn’t got a job at the hotel two months prior because he believes in fate. Their invitation sitting at the table of a friend of a friend’s place says that much.

He is sitting with his legs crossed in front of them, Herc’s feet in his lap, Angela’s hand resting against his jaw. He thinks this is where the story goes a little differently than most.

“What a lucky guy.”

Scott lets out, and he is breathless before he even kisses her.

“You aren’t out of luck yourself.”

She answers before he leans in. Herc brings his other hand to settle against the nape of his brother's neck when Scott kisses her with an open mouth, an insistent tongue, and hands that really have no right being quite so deft when it comes to zippers and buttons.

 


End file.
